I Like You Better In Pink part 2

Chapter 11

“What restaurant do you work at? I should come over once in a while. Do they sell good food?” Tim asked.

“No, they don't. You would distract me; I don't need you there.”

“Okay, whatever you say, your highness. Please tell me I'm not the only one getting weird messages from this Bella girl.”

“You too? She has been blowing my phone up, saying we should come for this exhibition thing that will gain us more credits for this course.”

“Hmmm. Ivy, you're doing it all wrong. She's going to know the last drawing isn't your work if you draw like that.”

“Well then, Mr. Perfect, you should probably do my homework for me again. This time, come up with a different concept.”

“Don't patronize me! I wasn't the one who slept off when I should be doing my assignment.”

“Shut up and let me focus, Tim.”

“What are we doing? We are always at each other's necks almost every day. This isn't how it used to be.”

“Things are different now, I guess. Oh, see? Another text from Bella,” Ivy said.

The doorbell rang. “I'm coming!”

“For an Ivy Queen, from it doesn’t say. What did you order?”

“I didn't order anything. Let me see.” He dropped the package on the sitting room center table.

Ivy picked it up and shook it. “I wonder what's in it.”

“Be quiet! What if it's a bomb?”

“Haha, very funny.”

She tore open the package. It was a red box containing a pink dress and white heels.

“There's a card,” Tim pointed out.

“I like you better in pink.”

“When did you get a boyfriend?”

“I don't have a boyfr—”

“Ivy's got a boyfriend! Ivy's got a boyfriend!”

“Stop it! Gosh. Who is this from?”

“I'm disappointed, Ivy. You don't tell me stuff anymore.” Ivy's phone rang. She picked up.

“Miss Ivy,” a voice called out.

“It's Alex.”

“Oh, uhm…”

“Who is that?” Tim blurted out.

“Am I disturbing something?” Alex asked.

“No, not at all. My roommate was just curious. Don't mind him.”

“Did you receive the package?”

“Yeah, yes, I did. I'm looking at it right now.”

“There's an art exhibition tonight. I need a date for the event. I know it's coming on short notice, but a car will be at your apartment by 7 PM.”

When she heard Alex's voice, she felt scared because of what transpired between them last time. What transpired between Natasha and him. Maybe she was panicking for nothing and hadn't figured her out yet as Natasha. He did mention he had a woman on his mind. Could it be her, Ivy? No, right? That would be outrageous.

“Ivy, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“See you then.”

“See you.”

Tim looked as if he was waiting for the tea. “So, so, sooooo…”

“I guess we are going to Bella's art exhibition after all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I just got invited by Alex. You know, the one I told you about—the one I met at Cynthia's party.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won't be able to go.”

“Why? It's not like you have anything else better to do.”

“I do.”

“And what is that?”

“Schoolwork.”

“Since when did you get worked up about school?”

“Since now.”

“Suit yourself.”

“And since when did you not get so worked up about schoolwork?”

Ivy shrugged. “Since now, I guess.” Ivy had changed a lot, Tim thought. Roles had been replaced. She was always the one focused on school—this school, that book. And he was always the "forget it" person. It didn't seem like that anymore.

“What do you think?” Ivy came out of her room wearing a pink silk dress with an open back and halter neck, complete with heels.

“Should I let my hair down or put it in a ponytail?”

“Ponytail.” Tim grabbed Ivy's hair and put it up in a ponytail.

“Band?”

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

“You look beautiful, Ivy.”

“Aww, that's so sweet! My ride's here; I gotta go.”

“Ivy?”

“Yes?”

“Take care of yourself.”

“Sure thing, Tim. Bye!”

“Bye,” Tim said almost in a whisper.

Ivy went downstairs. By the car stood Alex, holding a bouquet of white roses.

“Ivy, you are a work of art.” Ivy could feel her cheeks turn pink.

“Are these for me?” She collected the roses and smelled them. Alex opened the door for her and got in after her.

“Tell me, why do you like art so much?” Ivy asked.

“I don't. I like spending time with you.” Ivy giggled.

“Don't tease me, Alex.”

“I'm being sincere. Why do you like art so much?”

“It's a long story.”

“It's a long ride.”

“I grew up with the talent, I guess, and as a child, I bottled up a lot of feelings, which I expressed through painting.”

“That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“What do you do apart from school?”

“I, uhm, basically nothing.”

“Basically nothing is something, Ivy.”

“I do nothing, Alex.”

“What about you? How is work?”

Alex scrunched his nose. Ivy guessed he liked doing that a lot.

“People work for me, so I don't do much.”

“Oh, what do you do exactly?”

“You're kidding me, right?” Ivy wondered if she was missing something here. She shook her head.

“No, I'm not.”

“I'm Alex. Alex doesn't ring a bell?”

“Nope.”

“Alex Donatello.”

“Alex Donatello,” she repeated. “Still doesn't.”

“Where's your phone? What do you use it for?” No wonder there was nothing about him online, he thought.

“Go to G****e,” he ordered, and she obeyed. “Type Alex Donatello.” She did just that. Ivy's eyes almost bulged out upon seeing the results. She looked at her phone, then up at him, then back at her phone.

“You are Alex, as in Alex Donatello, CEO of Donatello Groups, America's most eligible bachelor? The Alex that everyone talks about in class? The Alex that has a thing with Cynthia, the rich supermodel?”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves yet. Cynthia and I aren't a thing.”

“How did I not know? You didn't tell me!”

“I'm quite popular. I don't have to shout it out to people I meet or write it on my forehead, now do I?”

The car came to a stop.

“We are here, sir,” the driver said.

“Alex,” Ivy said, waiting for him to continue.

“If I get down here with you, I'll be all over the news tomorrow.”

“Do you think I'm ashamed of you?”

“It's not that; it's—”

“I like you better in pink, Ivy,” Alex said. That was like the third time she was hearing this. Wait, that was like the third, third time. Then it dawned on her, but before she could confirm, Alex got out of the car and stretched his hand for her to take. The flashes of the cameras could barely make Ivy see as security led the way amidst all the paparazzi.

“Alex! Alex! A picture! Alex, who are you with tonight?” she could hear, but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

“I like you better in pink,” kept ringing in her head. The first time she heard that was when she was Natasha.

Does that mean he knows? She kept looking at Alex for answers. He knew she wanted answers, so he didn't pay attention to her.

They both safely got inside and were handed champagnes.

“Alexander Donatello, my man!” a man of about 40 years of age walked up to them.

“Henry.” They went for a handshake.

“Who do we have here?” the man Alex called Henry said, looking at Ivy, making Alex grip Ivy's hand tighter.

“Ivy.”

“A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Excuse us, Ivy.” Alex and Henry left Ivy to have a conversation.

“Ivy, you made it!” a squeaky voice called.

“Oh my gosh, you look so good!” Ivy turned around to see Bella and Tim.

“Tim?”

“When Tim told me he would be coming by himself, I thought you weren't going to come,” Bella said.

“I thought you said—never mind. It's good to see you again, Bella. I'm sorry for leaving abruptly last time.”

“It's no problem. Are you here alone?”

“No, she's with me,” Alex said.

Ivy turned around to face him. “I'm with him,” she said.

“Oh Lord, Mr. Donatello! It's a pleasure!” Bella gushed.

“I didn't know you knew Mr. Donatello,” she told Ivy.

“This is Bella, Alex. Alex, this is Bella and Ti—where's Tim?” No one had noticed Tim wasn't standing with them anymore. The girls looked around to see if they could spot him, but it was as if he disappeared into thin air.

“He must have gone to the restroom.”

“Shall we? It's starting.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After hours of sipping champagne and staring at artworks, Ivy came to the conclusion that gatherings like this were a sorry excuse for the rich to gather and have a quick chat with one another. Alex kept leaving her to talk to some of his rich folks. To think a while ago, she herself was considered rich was baffling.

In truth, Ivy was right; these exhibitions were ways the syndicate used to launder money. They would buy the artwork themselves, use it as exhibitions, inflate the prices to a ridiculous amount, just to clean whatever money they made from drugs and selling guns.

“Ivy, have you seen Tim?”

“I'm sure he's around somewhere. Oh, look! There he is!”

“Is that not—”

“Yeah, Cynthia.”

“Should we go say hi?”

“Of course!”

“Hi, Cynthia,” Ivy said, to which Cynthia didn't respond. Cynthia turned around and left them dumbfounded.

“What was that all about?”

“You need to get your ass on socials! You are all over the internet,” Tim said.

“Where have you been?” Bella asked as Ivy checked her phone.

Pictures from hours ago had surfaced online: ‘Unknown girl with America’s multibillionaire CEO.’ That fast? She had expected the news to surface at least the next morning.

“I was around. Were you looking for me?”

“Yes! You left me all alone!” Bella whined.

“Thank God Ivy kept me company.”

“I saw a painting you'd like,” Tim said.

“Excuse us, Ivy.”

“Hey, there you are!” Alex said, noticing her gloomy face. She handed him the phone.

“Alex, I can't do this.”

“Do what?”

“Once you know what I am, what I do—”

“What do you do, Natasha?”

It wasn't shocking to her that Alex was already aware she was Natasha. But was this all a joke to him? Is she someone he can just play with whenever he pleased because she was a stripper? Tears built up in her eyes as she walked away from him.

“Ivy!” he called out. She ran out, trying to lessen the attention they got.

“Ivy, wait!” he followed her out of the exhibition hall into a passageway.

“Just go! Leave me alone!”

“Ivy!” He reached for her and grabbed her by the arm. Her tears fell freely.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you crying? What did I do? Let me make up for it.” It pained Alex in the heart to see her cry